


The Valley of Thunder

by aethernity



Category: Ninpuu Sentai Hurricaneger, Super Sentai Series
Genre: Gen, Ninja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aethernity/pseuds/aethernity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yousuke takes a walk down the valley, and sees things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Valley of Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> Set somewhere around episode 9.

Yousuke glances at the valley, at the sheer emptiness that stretches on and on, and at the narrow pass obscured by fog. He can feel it in the air, in the distant rumble of thunder. _This is wrong, this is all wrong. It was never supposed to be this way_. 

The silence is deafening, but bearable - only just. What unnerves him more than the absolute silence is the fact that the valley feels dead. Not a single wingbeat, no scuttle of rodents across sand, nothing at all. It feels as if someone sucked all the life out of the valley, leaving only dust behind. That scares Yousuke. _It wasn’t always like this_.

A flag lies on the ground, forgotten, covered in the dust of the valley. Moonlight falls on the emblem of the twin thunderbolts, bathing the flag in an eerie glow. Yousuke tucks the flag into his jacket, looks across the valley, and closes his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he begins walking. _It used to be here_.

In his mind’s eye, he can see it all - the head coach, standing on the boulder; the students, wooden sword in hand, sunlight on their black leather jackets; most impressive of all, the building that towers over the training ground, a building as tall as the Hayate school building itself had been. Claps of thunder echo in the valley, and the static in the air makes his skin tingle - the first-years would have been learning how to call upon their element.

Yousuke sees, among all the students, a young boy barely ten years of age. His cropped black hair spiked with sweat, the boy circles his sparring partner, sword at the ready. As he strikes, Yousuke can feel the sheer power he emanates, every stroke of the wooden sword precise and forceful, far more than any first-year ever ought to be capable of. The boy knocks his opponent’s sword away, sending it skittering across the sand. The duel ends there, and as the students around them applaud politely, the boy smiles. His eyes, however, remain cold.

Somewhere, there is a clap of thunder, and Yousuke opens his eyes to see only emptiness and a dusty valley. 

He moves on. Gravel crunches beneath his feet, but the valley is otherwise silent. Far down the valley, there is a narrow passage between two boulders. Two flagpoles stand on either side, tattered flags flapping forlornly in the wind. 

Something is wrong, Yousuke knows. He’d felt it from the moment he’d stepped past the boulders. The fog obscures his vision, but even though Yousuke has no clue what he is supposed to see, he can feel it - this part of the valley is different.

He closes his eyes again. _Tell me._

The sounds of the valley reach him first. Laughter, song, children’s footfalls, the loud chirps of birds. A mother calling her children in for dinner, gravel on wooden clogs, the sound of food sizzling on a pan as the fire merrily crackles below. As he walks on, the sounds of a steadily flowing stream grow louder.

Yousuke stops by the bank of a stream, where two boys are playing. It’s the boy from earlier. Yousuke sees him standing on the rock, fishing rod in hand, his other hand pulling his younger brother from where he would have fallen into the stream.

_”Careful, Isshu. You okay?”_ Gone is the earlier coldness - the boy sounds kinder now, happier, sounds like the boy he should be. _His younger brother beams. ”Yep!”_

_“Let’s start here, shall we?” The boy scans the stream, while his younger brother wades in slightly. “I wonder if there are any fish?”_

_“There it is!”_

Yousuke keeps his eyes closed. He knows that if he opens his eyes, the stream he sees will have long run dry. More than anything, Yousuke wants to hold on to that image - the boy from earlier, no longer cold and distant, but the picture of brotherly love and warmth and childhood.

He came here for another reason, though. He has to find out. _Tell me what happened._

The cool night air is gone, replaced with sheer heat on his skin. Around him, pleas for mercy go unheard as flames lick the walls of the houses, the flagpoles, everything. Someone is laughing, a sound filled with malice and hate. The rapid chants of Magerappa grow louder as an army of them draw near.

Yousuke sees the boy again. He is older, almost a man now, his features more well-defined, and his stance confident as ever as he trades blows with an armoured swordsman. Some things never change, though - Yousuke can still feel the sheer power in his strikes, the force of his sword, and the darkness in those eyes. 

Powerful, but not powerful enough.

Yousuke wants to help, wants to give the boy a chance to escape, but he knows it will never happen. Instead, Yousuke watches almost helplessly as the boy is pinned to the ground, a gloved hand around his neck. The sword slips from the boy’s hand as he scrabbles at the hand pinning him to the ground, but his captor only laughs, a high and cruel sound.

Around them, the village burns to the ground.

Yousuke opens his eyes then, and the heat disappears, replaced once again with the cold air of the valley. The fog remains, but Yousuke knows that even if he could see through it, the valley would be empty.

The ashes of the village swirl in the wind.

Time to go. Yousuke knows. Dally any longer and he risks being discovered. Yet even as he leaves the place where the village once stood, Yousuke cannot help but glance over his shoulder at the ashen remains of the Village of Thunder, and wonder what it would have been like if, that day, the villagers had won.

He barely makes it five steps from the boulders marking the entrance to the village when something solid connects with the back of his head. A searing pain, a burst of white light, and Yousuke is falling, falling, falling.

Thunder booms overhead, and the last thing Yousuke sees is a pair of eyes, cold as stone.


End file.
